


stakes

by nocturnes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bruises, Come Kink, D/s, Facials, M/M, RPF, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnes/pseuds/nocturnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin has no idea how to tell Sehun what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stakes

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://exollent.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://exollent.livejournal.com/)**exollent** , who claimed this fic roughly two months ago over twitter. The passionfruit is for you, as always. :') ♥
> 
> This is maybe a slow exploration of a kink more than anything else.
> 
> 1\. Thank you to [](http://exollent.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://exollent.livejournal.com/)**exollent** for the title of this fic, and for being such a wonderful enabling porn fairy. u_u ♥
> 
> 2\. Thank you to [](http://exollent.livejournal.com/profile)[**exollent**](http://exollent.livejournal.com/) and [](http://thatdayismine.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thatdayismine.livejournal.com/)**thatdayismine** for reading this in snippets and half-worked out scenes and full scenes for the past forever, for discussing this with me in ridiculous detail, for assuring me that it wasn't completely horrible, actually, and for putting up with my worrying/obsessing over this in general, because I am far too intense about fic. asdflkjakljfda
> 
> 3\. This fic was initially inspired by [this](http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z208/twilit_rain/tumblr_m30wbgQsv61r8i9eqo1_1280.jpg) picture. because reasons.  
> 

“Jongin…”  
  
Jongin adjusts Sehun’s thigh around his waist to find a better angle. God, he needs to hear his name like that again. Sehun sounds fucking reverent and he has never heard anything so hot in his life. He grins to himself before he leans down closer to whisper in Sehun’s ear.  
  
“Tell me what you want, Sehun.”  
  
“Y-you,” Sehun stutters out, fingers curling tighter in the fists he keeps held up above his head. He’s allowed to move them and grab a pillow instead if he wants, but so far he hasn’t. He sucks in a breath when Jongin’s hand skates over his hipbone but avoids touching his cock.  
  
“Tell me more,” Jongin says, slowing down the movements of his hips a little as he sucks a red spot onto Sehun’s collarbone, exactly where it will be hard to cover up.  
  
“I—I want…” Seeing Sehun like this has become one of Jongin’s favourite things. It’s an odd matter of pride, seeing his skin flush and his voice go rough just because of what he allows Jongin to do to him.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Y-your hand…” Jongin stills almost entirely and Sehun whines, hands reaching out for one of the large throw pillows set up at the head of the bed. His fingers sink into the edges, knuckles squeezing so tightly they turn pale. Jongin has to bite his lip to keep himself in control. Everything feels amplified, down to the sweat sticking his hips to the back of Sehun’s thighs where they’re still touching.  
  
“My hand where? I want you to beg for it, Sehun. Can you do that for me?” Sehun looks gorgeous like this. Blotches of red spread across his neck and chest, and he gasps for air like he isn’t going to make it another second. Jongin allows himself one glance at Sehun’s cock, hard and leaking against his stomach, before he looks back up to Sehun’s face. Sehun’s eyes are half-open and heavy, smudged underneath with the liner that Jongin had asked him to wear. He licks his lips, and Jongin follows the drag of his tongue.  
  
“Around my cock. Stroking me off.” No stutter, no hesitation. Not for the first time, Jongin thinks about who is really in control here. He swallows, staring at Sehun’s mouth.  
  
“And?”  
  
“ _Please._ Please please please.” Jongin grins, adjusting his weight on his knees before he is rolling his hips into Sehun again, smooth and easy. He reaches a hand over to curl around Sehun’s cock, fist stroking in time with his hips once he gets the rhythm right. Sehun moans, fingers digging harder into the pillow, but he doesn’t move his arms. Jongin leans in closer so that Sehun’s breath passes hot over his face in short little bursts.  
  
“You’ve been such a good boy today, Sehun,” he says. “So good for me.”  
  
Sehun hums in response, moaning deep from his chest when Jongin twists his thumb over the head of his cock just how he likes. He’s holding back less on the noises he makes, just like they had discussed, but Jongin wants more than that.  
  
“I want you to say my name when you come, Sehun,” Jongin manages. He won’t last much longer himself at this rate. “Can you do that?”  
  
“Jongin,” Sehun gasps out, body starting to shake.  
  
“Good boy. Again.”  
  
“Jongin…”  
  
“Jongin!”  
  
Jongin wakes up, gasping, to a heavy weight on his chest.  
  
“Nnnggghh,” he manages. Images of Sehun spread out and pliant underneath him still linger in his mind before he realizes where he is and shuts his eyes even tighter. It is way, _way_ too hot in this room, and whatever is on his chest needs to get the fuck off so that he can jerk off before breakfast. After a dream like that, it won’t take him too long.  
  
“Jongin.” The thing on Jongin’s chest turns out to be the upper half of Sehun’s body, leaning over him and on top of him so that he can get right up in his face. After his dream and taking into consideration his present dire… situation, Jongin is not quite sure what to do with this information.  
  
“Um,” he says, “What? Is there a… a fire, or something?”  
  
Sehun lays his arms on Jongin’s chest and sets his chin on top of his overlapping hands. He gazes up at Jongin through his bangs, which are too long unstyled now and fall into his eyes. “No. You were making weird noises in your sleep.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin says, feeling his ears grow hot. “I have no idea why that would be.”  
  
“It was scaring Kyungsoo a lot, so he ran out for help and I volunteered to check on you before Joonmyun could have a chance. We’re leaving for practice in an hour.”  
  
“Thanks, I guess,” Jongin says.  
  
“So,” Sehun says, finally lifting himself off of Jongin’s chest before he stands up and stretches his arms above his head. “What were you dreaming about?” He glances towards Jongin’s legs, where his erection is still painfully obvious through the thin cotton sheet.  
  
“Um,” Jongin says. He wants to pull the sheet up over his head and scream.  
  
Sehun shakes his head, and a smile flicks briefly over his lips before his face returns to its usual intense, blank stare. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, deadpan.  
  
Jongin splutters.  
  
“And,” Sehun says, backing out of the room, “you owe me bubble tea. Every day for a week.”  
  
“In your dreams. I’m older than you, anyway.”  
  
Sehun glances at Jongin’s erection again, licking his lips. _Oh god_ , Jongin thinks, _I am actually going to die_. “You should be thanking me. What if someone else had come in and seen you like this? What if someone were to tell Joonmyun how concerned they are about you and your well-being?”  
  
Jongin freezes. Joonmyun has a way of getting overprotective that makes him feel like he no longer has any room to breathe. The concern is nice, but he doesn’t need it.  
  
“I thought so,” Sehun says, opening the door again. “Bubble tea, every day, for a week. Oh, and the biggest size, with tapioca pearls, in the flavour I want, and with milk if I want it, from the shop that I want.”  
  
Damn. No loopholes.  
  
“I’m still older than you.”  
  
Sehun laughs, and it comes out lower and rougher than Jongin had been expecting. He can’t hold in his gasp, so he screws his eyes up tight and tries to pretend like it never happened.  
  
“If we’re counting age, you should still be the one paying, _hyung_.”  
  
Jongin half-heartedly attempts to throw a pillow at Sehun’s head from across the room. Sehun catches it easily and whips it back at him, laughing when he manages to hit Jongin in the face.  
  
“Nice try,” Sehun says, “but you still owe me.”  
  
Jongin is too embarrassed to argue with that.  
  
\--  
  
Sehun’s favourite bubble tea shop is tucked into a tiny little space in between a coffee shop and a tofu restaurant. The place is only big enough to sit five people on bar stools at the narrow counter running along the right side of the shop, and Sehun and Jongin are the only customers. The ajumma behind the register coos over Sehun as soon as she recognizes him, then scolds him for having waited such a long time before returning. Jongin laughs behind his hand until she scolds him too for not coming over to greet her properly.  
  
Sehun orders what is apparently his usual: a large passion fruit milk tea with tapioca pearls. He sits by the counter near the window, fiddling with his straw, while he waits for Jongin to decide on his order and pay. Jongin ends up with something similar to Sehun’s, flavoured with honeydew. The ajumma behind the counter had insisted that he try it after he had stared at the menu for five minutes straight, indecisive.  
  
“So,” Jongin says, sitting next to Sehun at the counter.  
  
Sehun says nothing, instead swirling his straw in his cup and widening the opening in the plastic cover. He’s quieter than he has been all day, and Jongin isn’t quite sure how to deal with him when he’s like this. Lu Han was always good at pulling Sehun out of his own head, but Jongin does not possess that kind of intuition. He’s better with gestures, like buying tea.  
  
“If you want to go, we can,” he attempts. He tries his tea and inhales too fast, coughing on a tapioca pearl as it tries to lodge itself in his throat. “Look,” he says, once he has recovered his breath. Sehun is still staring down at his own tea, sipping quietly and shifting his straw around to capture individual pearls. “I’m not Lu Han. I’m not _good_ at—”  
  
Sehun laughs then, just a little, so that Jongin can’t hear it, but he can see the slight shaking of Sehun’s shoulders. “I know you’re not. That’s not…” he says, trailing off.  
  
“Then—”  
  
Sehun sighs, still messing with his straw. “It’s supposed to be easier.”  
  
Jongin’s mind draws a total blank. “What is?”  
  
“Everything,” Sehun says vaguely. He looks away and squeaks the straw through the plastic covering the cup, up and down, up and down.  
  
“You can tell me,” Jongin says. He’s not confident about whatever response he might have to offer, but he can pretend to be. Sehun is easy to tease, but he fades easily too, and Jongin has never liked letting that happen.  
  
“Joonmyun keeps telling me I need to be more expressive.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin says. He wishes Lu Han were here.  
  
“I don’t like being the focus.” Sehun’s head is lowered, and his thumbnail scratches along the pattern of the counter. His teeth pull his lower lip into his mouth. Jongin pretends he isn’t staring.  
  
“I’ve got you covered,” he says. “I’m the most attractive member, so the focus should be on me.” It comes out only half-joking.  
  
Sehun snorts, shoving Jongin a little with his shoulder. “You just want the camera time for yourself. And please, I have that title wrapped up easy.” His hand still messes with his straw, and Jongin watches the little circles it makes, over and over.  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” he says, softly and without thinking. Sehun tenses next to him, shoulders stiff. Jongin laughs to cover his embarrassment, and it sounds hollow and oddly high-pitched between the shop walls. He wants to cover his face with his hands, teleport himself away, anything.  
  
“You think so?” Sehun stares Jongin straight in the face, and the corners of his mouth creep up just slightly.  
  
Jongin swallows. “I mean, uh, for someone with such a big head. You’re okay. I guess.” He wants to cringe before that is even halfway out of his mouth.  
  
“You’re an ass,” Sehun says, grinning fully now. Jongin can’t tear his eyes away from Sehun’s teeth.  
  
“Hate you,” he says, without any real feeling. He pulls his gaze down to the counter and fights a smile of his own.  
  
Sehun gets up from his stool, shaking the leftover ice around in his empty cup. He nudges Jongin’s shoulder with his again as he makes his way over to the trashcan. “Hate you too.”  
  
\--  
  
By the last afternoon, Jongin is waiting for Sehun by the door when he comes over to pull on his shoes. It’s an easy routine they have fallen into, and Jongin is starting to think that after this time, he might just start missing it.  
  
They walk over to the shop in silence. Jongin doesn’t know why, but lately they have had trouble talking unless they both have their cups of tea in their hands. It’s sort of odd what things can prove distracting enough to pull down barriers, but if it makes Sehun talk to him, he’ll take it.  
  
“I’ll order for you,” Jongin says, as Sehun pulls open the door to the shop. The welcome bell jingles above them. Sehun just nods, going over to sit at his usual spot near the window.  
  
Jongin sighs and walks over to the counter, where he orders Sehun’s usual passionfruit tea and a vanilla one for himself. He has been trying a different one each day, just because.  
  
When he places the tea in front of Sehun and then sits down on the stool next to him, Sehun barely blinks. For a very small, stupid moment, Jongin contemplates whether upending his tea over Sehun’s head would result in a reaction. At this rate, probably not.  
  
“So,” he tries, “how are you feeling?”  
  
“Tired,” Sehun says. His fingers wrap around his cup, and he shakes the ice around. The dark circles under his eyes do look worse today, but with their schedules all of that is relative.  
  
“Me too,” Jongin says. That morning he had to pop two caffeine pills to make it through dance rehearsals.  
  
They sit in silence for a while, and Jongin sips at his tea, staring at Sehun’s hands. The vanilla is too sweet, and he doesn’t like it much. He starts shaking his leg just for something to do. Sehun clacks his ice around some more, somehow loud against the background noise of the air vents and the ajumma moving around in the back. He chews on his lower lip, and Jongin watches it leave his mouth, dark pink and shiny with spit. His left sneaker rattles harder against the metal footrest of the stool. Sehun licks across his lower lip, slow, before he finally takes a sip of his own tea.  
  
Jongin inhales sharp through his nose and ends up coughing on his last sip of tea. Sehun looks over at him for a second, eyebrows raised but otherwise still infuriatingly blank.  
  
“Look,” Jongin manages, voice slightly hoarse. His nose burns. “If you don’t want to be here, we should just go.”  
  
“When did I say that?” Sehun asks. His tongue pokes the side of his cheek out, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. Go if you want. I’m staying here to finish this.”  
  
“I’m not going,” Jongin says, hooking his feet more firmly into the footrest.  
  
“Ugh whatever,” Sehun huffs.  
  
Jongin shrugs. “You’re the one who won’t talk.”  
  
“Since when was talking a requirement?”  
  
“Since—” Jongin stops there, flushing slightly because Sehun has a fair point. He coughs lightly and turns back towards his tea. They’re quiet for a little while, and Jongin doesn’t bother keeping track this time. “I… um. What’s up?” he tries again, as soft as will still let him be heard, as if it will make it more likely that Sehun will answer.  
  
“I talked to Lu Han today,” Sehun says, casual. Jongin’s back stiffens.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says. “Just planning for when he gets back.”  
  
“The fans love you guys.”  
  
Sehun nods, twirling his straw around. “It’s nice,” he says. Jongin’s mouth goes dry, and he cuts a tapioca pearl into tiny pieces with his teeth. “We’re going to try putting our arms around each other’s shoulders more. They should like that.” Sehun grins down at the counter, soft and dreamy. It makes Jongin bristle and he doesn’t want to put a label on why.  
  
“That stuff works great if you need it,” he says, before he can stop himself.  
  
Sehun finally looks over at him then, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Jongin pauses, weighing it out in his head. “Nothing.”  
  
“Bullshit.” Sehun sucks on his straw, and Jongin watches the line of his throat as he swallows. He has been staring so much lately that he is sure if he closed his eyes, he would see Sehun behind his eyelids, dissected into lines and angles and little pinpoints of light. It’s more than a little unnerving. “You think you’re better than me.”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Jongin says, an odd mix of anger and anxiety rising in his chest. He squeezes his cup harder, condensation cool on his palms.  
  
“Might as well have,” Sehun says. “You think you’re too good to need fanservice.” It’s not a question, and somehow that stings even more.  
  
“I don’t want to need it,” Jongin says, and it sounds painfully honest out of his mouth, echoing against the painted-over concrete of the wall in front of them. He has worked too hard to want to be dependent on anyone else.  
  
Sehun sighs, passing his now empty cup between his palms. “Some of us don’t like being the centre of attention all the time,” he says.  
  
“I know,” Jongin says. “I didn’t say—”  
  
“You did,” Sehun says. “So save it.”  
  
Jongin flushes. “Fuck off.”  
  
Sehun shrugs. “You first. Let’s just go.” He gets up from his stool, and Jongin watches the line of his shoulders as he walks over to the trashcan. The aftertaste of the vanilla tea lingers in his mouth, suddenly sour. He swallows around the taste.  
  
“Are you coming or not?” Sehun asks, back to Jongin.  
  
Jongin nods even though Sehun can’t see it.  
  
On the way back, he follows half a step behind Sehun, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket. So much for conversation.  
  
Sehun avoids talking to him alone for over a week. Jongin knows that he should apologize, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it for something he didn’t even actually say. Sehun should know that he would never think it, either. None of that is enough to alleviate the sinking feeling in his stomach whenever Sehun goes out of his way to avoid being in the same space alone with him. Jongin doesn’t know how to fix it without giving in, so he stays back late at dance practice every night, working until he feels like he’s going to fall over. Some coping mechanisms have proven themselves, and maybe that can be enough. He hopes so.  
  
\--  
  
Jongin pushes open the door to the dance studio, a freshly refilled water bottle in his free hand. He freezes when he sees Sehun in front of the mirror, stretching with an arm up over his head. He’s wearing a different t-shirt than the one he had left their group practice with, and the fabric of one leg of his grey sweatpants is pushed up around his knee.  
  
“Hey,” Sehun says, meeting Jongin’s eyes in the mirror.  
  
“Hey,” Jongin says. He passes the water bottle between his palms. “I’m just going to run over some solo stuff, you don’t have to stay.”  
  
“I thought you might like some company,” Sehun says. He turns and smiles at Jongin, just slightly. Jongin wonders if he imagined it. Maybe the fatigue is getting to him. “But I can leave.”  
  
Jongin knows a peace offering when he sees one. “No,” he says, smiling at Sehun in a way he hopes is welcoming. “Stay. We can run through some stuff together.” He’s just not sure he deserves it.  
  
“Bet you can’t keep up,” Sehun says, bouncing back and forth slightly from foot to foot.  
  
“Is that a challenge?” Jongin says, putting his water bottle down on the floor at the side of the room. “Because I will kick your ass.” It’s easy enough to fall back into this, if he lets himself.  
  
“In your dreams.” Sehun turns back towards the mirror as he waits for Jongin to switch on the music. “Ready?” he asks, loud over the boom of the speakers, as Jongin comes over to stand next to him.  
  
“I should be the one asking you that,” Jongin says.  
  
“You’re on,” Sehun says. This time, he grins full out, and Jongin finds himself smiling back.  
  
Sehun calls a break forty-five minutes later, claiming exhaustion. They have worked their way several times through all of their individual teaser choreography, as well as some practice routines. Jongin won’t admit to it, but his waist injury had started to act up again, sending jolts of pain across his lower back. He can never hide it in his facial expressions as much as he wants. Sehun had tried to catch his eyes in the mirror before he had stopped abruptly and called the break, going over to pause the music.  
  
Jongin eases himself down the side wall of the studio to sit with his legs spread out in front of him. He swallows down several grateful mouthfuls of water, draining half the bottle in one go. His waist throbs, and he scrunches up his eyes, trying to ignore it.  
  
“You okay?” Sehun says, sliding down to sit next to him. Jongin passes the bottle over.  
  
“Fine,” he says. Sehun leans his head back against the wall. Jongin takes in the line of Sehun’s throat as he swallows before he wrenches his eyes away only to catch their reflection in the mirror. Sehun’s legs stretch out long next to his own, pale where the fabric of his pants is still pushed up. When Jongin turns away too fast, he catches the wince that flashes across his own face. Okay, maybe not so fine.  
  
“You’re such a stubborn ass sometimes,” Sehun says, twisting his hands around the hem of his t-shirt.  
  
“You don’t have to be concerned,” Jongin says, and god, that’s not what he meant to say at all, but he can’t stop himself either. “I don’t need anyone to be concerned.”  
  
“Your ego is just—” Sehun starts, before he pushes himself up and away from the wall. “You know what, I thought I would try but clearly this was a stupid idea.”  
  
“Wait,” Jongin says. He can feel his heartbeat loud in his ears as he pushes himself up carefully, leaning against the wall. “Where are you going?”  
  
“I’m going to call Lu Han,” Sehun says, turning around to face him, and his expression is as infuriatingly blank as always, almost cold. Jongin reads it like a challenge. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”  
  
Jongin doesn’t really know how he does it, but one moment he is leaning against the wall, careful of his waist, and the next he is rushing those few steps across the floor and using the momentum to push Sehun towards the wall, harder than he initially meant to. Sehun lets out a rush of breath as his back hits the panelled wood.  
  
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jongin asks, panting hard. His hands are harsh on Sehun’s shoulders, digging in enough that Sehun winces.  
  
“Figure it out,” Sehun says, deadpan. He glares hard at Jongin before he scans down his body and sees his legs shaking. “Fuck, you idiot, why did you do that.” His fingers wrap around each of Jongin’s wrists, pushing weakly at his arms. When Jongin won’t let go, he hits him in the shoulder instead. “Let me go.”  
  
“No,” Jongin says. He’s suddenly aware of the heat of Sehun’s body underneath him, of the sweat sticking his t-shirt to his chest. “Not until you tell me.” It comes out rough.  
  
Sehun sighs and closes his eyes. Jongin watches the way his lashes fan out across the dark circles under his eyes, and he can feel the heat curling tight and low in his gut, even as he tries half-heartedly to push it back.  
  
“I said figure it out,” Sehun says, before his eyes meet Jongin’s again. He sounds tired. “Unless you really are that dense.” Jongin wonders if they’re even talking about the same thing anymore. His hands ease up on Sehun’s shoulders before he lets go and lets them fall back to his sides. Sehun stares at him, surprised, and reaches up to rub at his left shoulder.  
  
“Thanks,” he says, soft. Jongin expects him to move away, but he stays right there, a slow flush creeping across his cheeks. Belatedly, Jongin realizes how close they still are. The sweat on his skin is starting to cool, and he shivers. Sehun is staring at some point around his collarbone, breathing shallow. And something clicks.  
  
“Sehun,” Jongin says, testing it out. Sehun looks up at him, mouth open just slightly, before he turns his head away and his flush deepens. “Fuck.”  
  
“Figured it out?” Sehun asks. He closes his eyes, like he’s fighting something back, before he pushes himself away from the wall and away from Jongin. “I’m going to go.”  
  
Jongin can hear the blood pounding in his ears, once, twice. He stands there, frozen, before he lunges after Sehun and pushes him towards the wall again. The pain in his waist feels fainter as he leans in to kiss Sehun on the mouth, sloppy with too much teeth. Sehun gasps against his mouth and it probably hurts, but Jongin doesn’t care. When he breaks away it’s only because he realizes that he can finally look at Sehun straight on like he’s been wanting to.  
  
Sehun’s cheeks are flushed, his mouth kiss-swollen. He stares at Jongin through lowered eyelids, trying to catch his breath. His hands fist the fabric over Jongin’s chest tight. Cool air brushes against Jongin’s stomach where the hem of his t-shirt rises, but he feels too hot.  
  
As he watches Sehun’s fingers clench, his hands drift down to Sehun’s hips. Before he can think about it, he’s pushing them into the wall, harsh enough that he can hear the impact. He’s struck by the way his hands wrap around Sehun’s hips, thumbs pressing into his hipbones. Sehun lets out a tiny little breathy noise, and it hangs in the damp air between their mouths.  
  
The heat pooling in Jongin’s stomach jumps at that, and he squeezes harder. This time, Sehun moans full out, neck arching back. Except for the air vents, the studio is silent, and it’s loud with nothing else to absorb it. Sehun opens his eyes and looks furiously from side to side as much as he can in the limited space, panicking as he hears himself.  
  
“S-stop,” he stutters out. “Stop.” Jongin pulls his hands away fast, taking a step back. The look on Sehun’s face terrifies him.  
  
“Are you—” he starts, but Sehun shakes his head, and the _okay_ falls away unasked.  
  
“I’m going home,” Sehun says. His face is drawn, even paler than normal, and Jongin doesn’t have the heart to stop him as he leaves this time.  
  
After the door clicks closed, Jongin presses his back to the wall. He winces at the pain in his waist as it throbs. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine his hands still over Sehun’s hips and feel the heat of his skin underneath his palms, separated only by the thin jersey fabric.  
  
Maybe he hadn’t figured it out after all.  
  
\--  
  
Jongin catches Sehun in the bathroom the next morning, entirely by accident. He pauses halfway through the doorway, his toes on the tiled floor. The rest of the apartment is still dark, and the incandescent lights above the mirror are too harsh this early. He blinks until his eyes focus again.  
  
Sehun is still there, standing in front of the sink with his hair still sleep-mussed and foam from his toothpaste circling his mouth. He looks up at Jongin blandly through the mirror before he spits into the sink. When he looks up again, he freezes, taking in the tan skin of Jongin’s bare chest. A bruise has blossomed at the edge of his mouth on the left side, purple and blue against the pale pink of his lips. It feels incriminating.  
  
“Morning,” Jongin says. He rocks back on his heels for a moment before he leans his shoulder into the doorframe.  
  
“Morning,” Sehun mumbles, taking a swig of water from his mug and rinsing out his mouth. He spits into the sink again. Jongin wants to kiss him again right there, pressed against the sink, where the water on the counter would probably seep into Sehun’s pyjama pants, but neither of them would care. He shakes his head to get rid of the image.  
  
“About yesterday—” he starts, but when he thinks about it, he doesn’t know what to say. Sehun sets his mug back down on the counter, and Jongin tries to catch his eyes in the mirror. An image of Sehun’s panicked face springs to the front of him mind, and then he can’t look either. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t,” Sehun says. He turns and elbows his way past Jongin into the hallway, flinching back when his hand touches Jongin’s chest. “Bathroom’s free.”  
  
Jongin stares at his retreating back before he shuffles into the bathroom and closes the door softly behind him. He winces as he leans over the sink and his waist twinges, pain travelling outwards across the small of his back. Practice will be difficult today, but it’s not like that’s anything new.  
  
In this light, the mirror catches the dark circles underneath his eyes and highlights the acne springing up across his chin and cheekbones. He pokes at a particularly painful one before wrenching his hand away. Nothing helps when he’s this exhausted. He sighs and turns on the faucet, hoping that the rush of the water will drown out the static in his head.  
  
\--  
  
Jongin glances up at the door when he hears it click open. Someone else barging in while he’s in the bathroom is nothing new, but he likes all the privacy he can get, and Baekhyun has been getting scarily good at picking locks. It’s Sehun’s head peeking through the gap in the doorway that throws him off, and he takes a step backward involuntarily. In the week since the night in the practice room and their accidental morning after, Sehun hasn’t sought him out alone again. After that night, Jongin hasn’t been eager to fuck up another chance, and he has been getting used to the silence between them, as much as he hates that.  
  
“Sorry,” Sehun says, “I knocked but I don’t think you heard. I can go.”  
  
“No,” Jongin manages, still caught off guard. “Come in if you want.” He picks a random moisturizing lotion from the counter and starts rubbing it into his arm, just for something to distract himself. He doesn’t know whose it is, what it’s supposed to do, or even if it’s actually meant to go on this part of his body. He’s never been good with this personal beauty regimen stuff. He looks up to see Sehun with his back pressed against the closed door, biting his lip. Too distracting, then. Jongin registers late that he’s still only wearing a towel, but there’s nothing for that now. “What’s up?” he tries.  
  
“I wanted to talk to you,” Sehun says. His arms are folded behind his back, and he pushes himself forward and away from the door just slightly, over and over, little repetitive motions. He’s wearing a worn out grey t-shirt and jeans, and he scrunches up his toes inside of his white athletic socks. He stares pointedly at a spot just beyond Jongin’s shoulder once Jongin’s eyes return to his face.  
  
“You’re talking to me now,” Jongin points out, one edge of his mouth creeping up a little. He leans back against the sink, careful to readjust the towel. If Sehun is going to seek him out like this, he doesn’t want to scare him away again so fast.  
  
“Right,” Sehun says, flushing like he hadn’t quite realized. “So I am.”  
  
“So shoot,” Jongin says. He folds his arms across his chest, stupidly hoping in a small corner of his mind that it’ll show off his arms. That Sehun will look and enjoy it.  
  
“I uh—” Sehun says, flushing harder and looking at the tiled floor this time. “Can we talk in your room instead? In a bit? As long as you’re not busy, it’s okay if you are.”  
  
“Not busy,” Jongin says, and even though Sehun’s not looking he hopes he can hear the smile colouring his voice. “I’ll be right there.”  
  
“Okay,” Sehun says, he pushes away from the door and flips around fast, avoiding Jongin’s eyes in the mirror. “I’ll just… wait there.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says, more to the door as it’s slipping closed than to Sehun. His smiles toothily into the mirror, wide and bright, and even if he were to try, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t hold it back.  
  
\--  
  
When Jongin walks into his bedroom, Sehun is sitting on the edge of his bed, trailing random patterns across the wood floor with his socked toes. He looks up when he hears the click of the door behind Jongin, hands tensing up at the edge of the mattress. The desk lamp on the bedside table next to Jongin’s bed is the only light on in the room, and it casts harsh shadows across Sehun’s face. A flush creeps slowly across his cheeks again as he takes in Jongin wearing only his boxer shorts. Part of Jongin wants to rejoice inwardly at this small victory, but he lets it go, instead treading carefully across the floor to sit to the left of Sehun on the mattress.  
  
“So,” he says. He can feel Sehun’s eyes on his thighs, and that same part of him wants to lean back on his elbows, give him a real show now that he actually has the chance. He pushes it back again. “What did you want to talk about?”  
  
“Um,” Sehun says. He twists his hands together in his lap, eyes focused downwards, and his bangs swing forward to cover them even more. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve sort of been avoiding you.”  
  
Jongin wants to roll his eyes. “No, I actually hadn’t noticed at all.” Sehun looks a little offended, but Jongin just laughs at him a little, soft and low. “I’m just kidding. Yeah, I noticed.”  
  
“Right,” Sehun says. He folds his hands together only to pull them apart again. “I got Kyungsoo to switch with me for the night, by the way. He won’t come back in here tonight. He just wanted you to promise not to touch his stuff.” Jongin can envision Kyungsoo’s face as he would say it, and he laughs again, as if it’s that easy, as if all of this is that easy.  
  
“Noted,” he says. “No touching of Do Kyungsoo’s worldly possessions will occur.” He pauses for a few beats, waiting for Sehun to spit it out already. “So… what did you want to tell me?” Well. He’s never proclaimed to possess this sort of patience.  
  
“I liked it,” Sehun says, all in a rush, so fast he almost stumbles over himself to get the words out. Jongin has to sit there for a moment, wondering if he heard it right. Sehun says it like it’s something destructive, and that makes Jongin’s breath catch up in his throat.  
  
“Liked what?” he asks, mind racing through possibilities, too fast too discern each one individually. His voice comes out hoarse.  
  
Sehun takes a deep breath. His hands grip the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles turn even paler. “In the practice room, when you—” he pauses, hands moving up to play with the hem of his shirt instead. “You’ve been thinking I was mad at you for it, but I liked it.”  
  
Jongin can feel his heart pounding in his chest, steady and loud against his ribcage. “When I—” he prompts, holding his breath.  
  
“When you—” Sehun waits again, thumbs flipping the hem of his t-shirt in and out, before he switches gears. “I wanted to show you something.”  
  
“What?” Jongin asks, breathier than he would ever admit to out loud. He can’t take his eyes away from Sehun’s hands, twisting and untwisting in the fabric. Part of him wants to tell Sehun to get on with it, but he also doesn’t want to break whatever has changed to give Sehun the confidence to seek him out.  
  
Sehun takes a deep, shuddery breath and pulls the t-shirt up a little, enough to expose the lines of his hipbones jutting out from the low waistband of his jeans. “This.”  
  
Jongin stares at the bruises lingering over the pale skin of his hips, now faded into mottled spots of green and yellow. They’re too thin and long to be accidental, and the perfect size to match each of his thumbs. “I did—”  
  
“Yes,” Sehun says, letting the shirt fall back into place, and Jongin almost wants to ask him to keep it pulled up, let him look properly. “You—I think it was when you pushed me up against the wall.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin says. He stares at the part of Sehun’s shirt covering his hip, wishing it away. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry,” Sehun says. “I just said I liked it, didn’t I?”  
  
Jongin lets the full force of that hit him. “Oh.”  
  
“And I’ve been avoiding you because—” Sehun pauses again, biting his lip.  
  
“Because?” Jongin prompts, even though he thinks he already knows the answer. Just the idea of it is enough to send heat coiling through his stomach, heavy and tight.  
  
“I liked it,” Sehun whispers, just barely audible. He squares his shoulders and inhales deeply before he looks up at Jongin for real this time. His eyes are bright, almost wild, and Jongin hadn’t been expecting that. “When you did that. I liked it.”  
  
His shoulders sink, absolved of the weight. Before he can look away again, Jongin is leaning forward to kiss him, soft and hot and maddening, not at all like it was in the practice room. Sometimes he thinks about kissing Sehun like this, about kissing Sehun a lot of different ways, and he wants to try them all. He has wanted to for a long time. His left hand reaches up to cup the back of Sehun’s neck, pulling him closer, while his right fists in Sehun’s t-shirt, holding him there as best as he can.  
  
Sehun leans into the kiss, mouth hot and wet against Jongin’s. His hands come up to rest on his shoulders, finally touching skin. Jongin pulls away just slightly to bite down softly on Sehun’s lower lip, and there’s the little noise that Sehun had made, the one he had missed even though he hasn’t heard it enough, not as much as he wants to. He leans back in and this time Sehun’s tongue is hot against his own, licking into his mouth in a way that makes him feel dizzy. He can feel the heat in his stomach, spreading out thick and slow, and he’s already half-hard in his underwear, just from this. The moan that leaves his mouth at the just thought of what he’s doing, right now, and who he’s doing it with, is embarrassing enough to have him pulling back, gasping for air.  
  
Sehun leans back too, panting. His mouth is dark pink, slick with spit, and Jongin just wants to kiss him again. Sehun untangles his hand from where it had caught in Jongin’s hair as he shifts back into his own space. Jongin takes in the flush that has spread over to Sehun’s chest, an odd sort of pride striking somewhere in his chest. He turns back to sit straight, so that their legs are even with each other, pressed thigh to thigh. They sit in silence for a little while, and Jongin is struck by how, even now, he still doesn’t know how to make Sehun talk. But maybe that’s never been the right question.  
  
“What if I told you,” Sehun says, sudden, after Jongin has lost count of the passing seconds. He looks over to find Sehun staring down at his fingernails, picking out imaginary dirt from underneath them. “that I think I might like being told what to do?”  
  
“My laundry is available, if you’re interested,” Jongin says, catching Sehun’s left wrist in his right hand. He strokes his thumb over the veins he can see, slow, and Sehun shivers against his shoulder.  
  
“Not like that,” Sehun says carefully, like he has to weigh it out. “You can wash your own sweaty t-shirts. Like—”  
  
Jongin remembers the breathy little sound Sehun had made when he had pressed his hips into the practice room wall with his hands, hard. He remembers the sound Sehun had made that had made him panic that short while after, when Jongin had squeezed harder over the bruises he hadn’t yet known were there.  
  
“Oh,” he says, breath caught in his throat. _Oh._ “Like…”  
  
Sehun laughs, so soft Jongin barely catches it. “Yes,” he says, “like.”  
  
Jongin can feel Sehun leaning away, just slightly, and he doesn’t want to be the cause of that, not this time. “If you told me that,” Jongin says, attempting to muster all of the cool he projects as Kai on stage and failing miserably, “I would say… we should talk about that.”  
  
Sehun shifts his hand down and laces his fingers with Jongin’s, loose, easy. He takes a deep breath. Jongin squeezes tighter.  
  
They sit in silence again. Jongin is too conscious of Sehun’s body next to his, the pressure of his shoulder leaning into his own, the texture of Sehun’s jeans against his bare knee. His palms are starting to sweat.  
  
“I’m telling you,” Sehun says, finally. He’s too still otherwise, like he’s holding his breath. Jongin imagines the room around them pressing in tighter. It’s stifling. He feels dizzy.  
  
“Yeah?” Jongin says. He breathes in deep, and even the air feels dense.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says. He unhooks their hands, and his fingers spread over his knees, curling and uncurling. Jongin watches the splay of his bones move from sharp relief against his skin back into invisibility.  
  
He wants to feel those hands on his skin. If Sehun is being honest, Jongin would only have to say so, and—  
  
It hits him, then, what Sehun wants to give away. The rush of it makes his hands shake. He sits on them to hide it, arms pressed up awkwardly against his sides in the narrow space, but he doesn’t want to shift away from Sehun, either.  
  
“Okay,” he tries, taking a deep breath. “Do you want to—”  
  
“I don’t want you to ask,” Sehun cuts in. “I—I want you to tell me. Or to just… just do it.” He pauses, and Jongin can hear the nervousness colouring his voice, making it waver, before he inhales shakily. “I um, I looked it up and we can—we can use a word for—” He stops, losing his bravado, which hadn’t been all that convincing anyway. Jongin looks up to find him biting his lip so hard it’s starting to turn pale with the pressure.  
  
“A word for?” he asks. He’s half nervous now, half anticipatory. Mostly he is struck by how much he simply _wants_ , the feeling washing over him until he feels hot and a little light-headed.  
  
Sehun’s lip leaves his mouth, shiny with spit. Jongin wants to see it swollen, red. He wants to be the cause of it. He’s starting to realize that he thinks he wants to be the cause of a lot of things.  
  
“For when I want you to stop… stop what you’re doing. Or when you want to stop,” Sehun says. His hands squeeze hard around his knees, knuckles turning white. “Either one. If you’re okay with this,” he adds, fumbling. “I mean.”  
  
Jongin just barely resists the urge to grin at Sehun, wide and a little off-kilter. The remaining nerves are making him squirmy and slightly giddy. “I said I wanted to talk about it, didn’t I?” he says. He pulls his hands out from underneath his thighs and grabs Sehun’s hand in his own again, hoping it will ground himself a little. Sehun will need him to be grounded, if this is going to work. “But I—” He pauses, feeling his cheeks heat. “What kind of word? Just… “stop”?”  
  
“No,” Sehun manages. “Something silly, or unrelated, to break the mood.” He sounds like he’s reciting a dictionary definition from by heart, and Jongin has to catch a nervous laugh before it can leave his chest.  
  
“You pick,” he says instead, squeezing Sehun’s hand in his.  
  
“Okay,” Sehun says. His eyes dart around the room for inspiration before he freezes and turns towards Jongin, eyes bright as the idea hits him. “Passionfruit.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says. “Passionfruit.” He smiles softly towards his knees as he remembers the afternoons in the bubble tea shop and the way Sehun had squeaked his straw around inside the plastic covering his cup, over and over. He has a lot of nervous habits like that, if Jongin takes the time to piece it all together. When he looks up again, Sehun is staring at him, nervous but expectant, his too long bangs falling into his eyes.  
  
“So now,” Sehun says, voice full of attempted bravado but falling short, “tell me what you want to do. To me.” It comes out too fast and too loud against the stillness of the rest of the room, more than a little awkward. Sehun swallows hard, but this time, he doesn’t shift away more than to unlink their hands and wipe his sweaty palms against his jeans. He sits with his knees close together, hands resting carefully over his kneecaps, absurdly proper in a way that doesn’t suit him. He waits, looking up at Jongin through lowered eyelids.  
  
Jongin’s heart feels too loud in his chest. Blood pulses through his throat, and he has to close his eyes for a moment to keep his focus. “I can’t just—” he says, head whirling with all the fantasies he has had about Sehun, about his lips, his cock, his ass.  
  
He thinks wildly before he gets stuck on something that he had thought about in the shower once while he had jerked off fast and harsh, palm slick with someone else’s conditioner. Even the thought of it brings heat curling back low into his stomach, slow and steady. He had only done it once, because the thought of wanting it had made him feel guilty, almost dirty. After that, the image has been hard to get rid of, even if he hasn’t let himself act on it. But maybe Sehun would—  
  
“I want to fuck your mouth,” he blurts out, sounding more breathless than he had intended. He half expects Sehun to laugh in his face, and the rest of the request stays lodged in his throat, harsh like smoke. He isn’t sure if it’s wanting what he does that scares him, or if he’s just afraid of scaring Sehun away. He looks over at Sehun to gauge his reaction. Sehun is smiling at him, soft around the edges.  
  
“That’s it?” he asks, eyebrows raised. His hands still rest primly on his knees. It still doesn’t suit him.  
  
“No,” Jongin says. He bites his lip, fighting to keep eye contact as he feels his cheeks flood with heat. “I want to do it rough. And I—” It’s no use holding it back, it’s bubbling up like magma, burning his tongue and— “I want to come on your face.” He has to close his eyes to get the words out. His mouth feels scalded with the force of them, but at the same time it’s a relief.  
  
Sehun inhales, sharp, and rubs his hands back and forth over his knees. He closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s picturing it. “Oh,” he says, steadier than Jongin had been expecting, but Jongin isn’t sure what he’s expecting anymore, either. Sehun takes a deep breath, and Jongin waits, bracing himself for the inevitable refusal. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”  
  
“What?” Jongin asks, because if he was expecting any reaction, it wasn’t this one.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says. He looks down at his socks, wiggling his toes inside them. “I’ve thought about—” He pauses, looking up at Jongin again, like he’s waiting for him to run away, terrified. “I’ve thought about you doing that. Before.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin says, and god that mental image is too much right now, if he’s going to keep it together long enough to make this work. He feels nervous, and his palms are getting sweaty again. “And it’s okay if I—”  
  
Sehun bites his lip, closing his eyes like he’s watching it play out in his head again. “I don’t… don’t want you to be gentle. So… yes. It’s okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says, heat gathering in his stomach again because he can picture already: Sehun would be on his knees in front of him, liner smudged around his eyes, pretty and messy. His mouth would be open, and he would be waiting for him, just like that. “So now we—”  
  
“Now… you tell me,” Sehun says, and the soft smile is back, ghosting over his mouth. “And I’ll let you know if anything’s not okay.”  
  
“I want you to—” Jongin starts. He bites his lip, because this is going to sound odd out loud but he can’t get the image to leave his head, now that it’s there. Like before, he has to close his eyes to say it. “I want you to go put on eyeliner, the kind you wear on stage sometimes. Doesn’t matter if it’s messy.”  
  
Sehun stares at him for a moment, mouth open but otherwise blank. He looks close to normal now, less on edge, and that makes Jongin feel calmer too.  
  
“Okay,” Sehun says, soft. His eyes flick up to Jongin’s for a second, like he’s waiting for further instruction. When he doesn’t get any, he pushes himself up from the bed and pads over to the door before he slips out of the room, letting the door click shut after him.  
  
Jongin stays in the same spot on the bed, trying to stay calm as his mind whirls. All of this is too new, not yet sunken in, and yet Sehun is out there, right now, doing what Jongin had asked him to do. It feels like he should be waking up any second now to the fading memory of this as a dream. He’ll be sweating under his sheets, his cock so hard it aches, and then he’ll go jerk off in the shower like he has on so many other mornings. Any second now.  
  
He’s still counting it out in his head when Sehun slips into the room again. The time it takes him to cross the room feels skewed in Jongin’s mind, stretched out somewhere indefinable between seconds and days. He’s breathing shallowly now, just from thinking about this, about what they’re about to do. He’s already half-hard in his underwear.  
  
“Good?” Sehun asks, moving to sit down on the bed again. His lips press into a thin line as he fights to look Jongin in the face this time. The liner is dark around his eyes, gathered mostly underneath in uneven little strokes of black. It’s a mess, and it looks nothing like what he wears on stage. Jongin doesn’t really care, because what he wanted in the first place was to mess it up.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, “Perfect.” Sehun’s back in the same posture as earlier, hands over his knees, and Jongin wants him out of it. Sehun smiles at Jongin again, just slightly, so that if Jongin weren’t looking for it already he probably would have missed it. He licks his lips, trying to figure out what to ask for next. Saying what he wants like this is oddly freeing, but he’s not used to lack of constraint. Sehun nods at him, almost imperceptible, and that’s all it takes. Jongin swallows. “Get on your knees,” he says. “Facing the door. Keep your clothes on.”  
  
Sehun complies, kneeling on the floor and resting his ass on his ankles for now. He looks up at Jongin through his bangs. Now that his back is to the lamp on the bedside table, the shadows around his eyes are deeper, and the liner looks darker, more defined. Jongin breathes shallowly, trying to keep his focus as the heat curls tighter in his stomach, almost unbearable.  
  
He pushes himself up off the bed and steps out of his underwear as methodically as he can with his hands shaking. When he looks over, Sehun is staring at his cock, mouth parted just slightly. Jongin watches the line of his throat as he swallows, hard, and he likes being the reason for that.  
  
It only takes him a few steps to position himself in front of Sehun, his cock fully hard against his stomach now and right up in Sehun’s face. He feels shaky, but anticipation is winning out over the nerves. It’s easy to thread his fingers through Sehun’s hair and bend his neck up so that he has to look him in face.  
  
Sehun’s expression is a blank as ever, and the urge to push that into something else hits Jongin hard, heady and exhilarating. “Sehun,” he says. His voice rasps out hoarse and low, different than he’s ever heard it, and he’s surprised to find that he likes it like this. It makes him feel more in control, even as his body feels like it’s spiralling outside of it. “You’re not going to be able to talk, so squeeze the backs of my thighs if you want to stop. Keep your hands on your knees otherwise. And don’t touch yourself.”  
  
Sehun just nods, licking his lips as he stares up at Jongin. Jongin takes a deep breath. “Open your mouth,” he says, “and god, be careful with your teeth.”  
  
He goes slower than he would like to at first, testing out what Sehun can handle. Sehun’s lips stretch prettily around his cock, and his hands clench into fists on top of his knees. He closes his eyes, sucking in his cheeks like he’s savouring it, but the rest of his face is still infuriatingly blank. Jongin wants that to change. He wants to be the reason for it. And that’s all it takes.  
  
Jongin thrusts in harder, using his hands in Sehun’s hair as leverage to fuck into his mouth as his fingernails dig into his scalp. Sehun opens his eyes as they start to water, and he chokes a little whenever Jongin hits the back of his throat hard. The heat in Jongin’s stomach jolts at the noises Sehun makes, and he fucks him faster, mind lost in a blur of wet heat and the way Sehun’s lips look, stretched out around him like that.  
  
The sounds his mouth makes around Jongin’s cock are wet and dirty in a way that’s better than anything Jongin had imagined that time in the shower. He fists his hands in Sehun’s hair, pulling hard as Sehun moans unrestrained around his cock. After a particularly hard thrust, Sehun coughs, struggling for air. Jongin’s cock leaves his mouth with an obscene pop, and Sehun drools down his chin because Jongin hadn’t given him the room to swallow.  
  
Jongin stares down at Sehun for a moment, taking in his swollen lips and the way his chin is slick with spit. His eyes are heavy-lidded and only half-focused as he gazes up at Jongin, pupils blown. Jongin’s eyes scan down his torso, and his breath catches at the sight of Sehun’s cock, visibly hard and pressing out against the zipper of his jeans. When he looks up again Sehun smiles softly at him and licks slow across his lower lip, all suggestion.  
  
Jongin gets the message, and he shoves his cock back into Sehun’s mouth faster this time, not careful at all. Sehun makes tiny little pleasured noises, caught between the sounds of Jongin’s cock sliding slick past his lips and the way he chokes when Jongin thrusts hard. Jongin’s eyes flutter shut as he imagines Sehun’s eyes closed, liner smeared all over, making him look messy, like someone had been there, smudging it up for him. If he wanted to, he could reach down and smudge the liner some more around Sehun’s eyes, then leave streaks of it across his cheek.  
  
Jongin can feel his stomach starting to tense, heat coiling tight and spreading outwards, and he pulls out just before he comes, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock to hold it in place over Sehun’s face. He aims for Sehun’s cheek first, but he’s off from where he wants and ends up getting a line of cum over Sehun’s slightly parted lips. As Sehun’s tongue darts out to lick it away, Jongin’s wrist jerks and the rest lands over Sehun’s cheek. He pants as he lets go of his cock, reaching down to rub the cum into Sehun’s skin with his thumb a little.  
  
“Passionfruit,” he says, the edge of his mouth turning up slightly at the way Sehun’s eyes are now glassy, bright with arousal.  
  
“We did it all already,” Sehun says, “You don’t have to use—” He trails off as he fumbles to open the button and zipper of his jeans with shaking fingers, then tries unsuccessfully to shimmy them off his hips while his knees still rest on the floor.  
  
“Let me,” Jongin says. He kneels down next to Sehun and reaches into his underwear to wrap his fist around his cock. After everything else, it only takes two jerks of his hand before Sehun is gasping hard and coming all over his fingers. Jongin reaches up and wipes that across Sehun’s other cheek. “Now you match,” he says.  
  
He attempts and fails to keep a straight face, breaking out into giggles when he takes in the surprised ‘o’ of Sehun’s mouth along with the liner smudged up terribly around his eyes, made messy with sweat. Sehun laughs with him, soft at first but then harder, until he’s leaning forward to press his forehead against Jongin’s shoulder as his entire body shakes with the force of it. Jongin recoils, flailing backwards as he feels some of the cum on Sehun’s cheek transfer to his shoulder.  
  
“Oh my god,” he says, furiously wiping it away with his hand before reaching over to wipe it over Sehun’s arm instead.  
  
“You’re such a baby,” Sehun says, wiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “I think that was yours, anyway.” He leans back over towards Jongin, faking an exaggerated kissy face, and Jongin scrambles backwards even farther as Sehun laughs again, warm and bright. He shoves his jeans and boxers down and off his legs before he stands up and reaches for Jongin’s boxers on the bed, pulling them up and over his hips.  
  
“Where are you going?” Jongin asks. He tries not to think about how he looks right now, limbs spread out at odd angles around him on the floor, his cock now soft between his legs.  
  
“To get us a towel or something,” Sehun says, smiling. “I don’t know about you, but I really need one right now.”  
  
Jongin watches him slip out the door, hoping to god that no one is out in the hallway.  
  
\--  
  
Later, after they have both cleaned up a bit, they lie facing each other in Jongin’s bed, elbows cradling their heads as they share a pillow. It’s a tight fit on the single mattress, but neither of them minds right now.  
  
Jongin reaches over to cup his free hand around the back of Sehun’s neck, pulling him in for a close-mouthed kiss. “Was it okay?” he asks. His thumb strokes along Sehun’s cheekbone over where the line of his cum had been. He can imagine it there again, easy.  
  
“Mmm,” Sehun hums, pressing his cheek into Jongin’s hand as his eyes flutter closed. “You were perfect. I loved it.” His voice softens out at the end, barely audible.  
  
“Is there anything I—” Jongin starts, before Sehun shushes him with another kiss. Jongin leans into it, licking into Sehun’s mouth, slow this time. He pulls away and stares at Sehun’s mouth, shiny with spit, and thinks that yeah, he could get used to this. “But is—”  
  
“Shhh,” Sehun says, flipping over to face the wall. “Sleep now. So tired. Practice tomorrow.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says. He wraps his arm around Sehun’s waist and pulls him close, so that the skin of Sehun’s back presses against his chest, comfortingly warm. He presses his mouth into Sehun’s neck to hide his smile. It might not be any easier to get Sehun to talk to him, but at least now there’s always later.  
  
---


End file.
